Whispers of the System
by shadowserenity
Summary: After her betrayal, Boomer is disconnected from the system. How will she react to a Cylon representative? Will Helo discover her secret? Helo&Boomer relationship.


**Title:_ Whispers of the System_**

**Rated: **PG

**Author: **shadowserenity

**Characters: **(Caprica)Boomer/Helo, (Caprica)Six

**Genre: **romance, angst, religion

**Spoilers: **Season one

**Word count: **3, 918

**Summary: **After her betrayal, Boomer is disconnected from the system. How will she react to a Cylon representative? Will Helo discover her secret?

**Notes: **Written for the first official Hidden Elysium challenge. I chose option #3: _Have Helo discover Boomer's pregnancy another way. _

* * *

Boomer's stomach churned painfully and she had an overpowering urge to regurgitate her breakfast. Her stomach tightened and spun again, her hand shifting to rest on her abdomen as if to hold back her sickness. Helo walked two steps in front of her and she watched as his shoulders tensed, knowing that he fought his own demons to keep their current pace.

She stumbled on a patch of gravel at the side of their pathway, and her heart beat faster at the error. She clutched her midsection to quell the rising anxiety and forced herself to concentrate on walking – anything to hold back the bile and acid in her throat.

She could hear Helo's laboured breath and the crunch of his boots on the ground, and for now, there were no Cylons. They'd lost them more than an hour ago, but Sharon knew they shouldn't be careless. It's only a matter of time, said the cynic within. The collective mind could calculate their movements, could anticipate, could overcome impatience, could press against the shadows, because it was greater than one human and a rogue child. The collective had precious data gleaned from years of observation. The collective mind had once been within her – and as she glanced at Helo again, she knew she had fed the collective humanity.

She looked past her lover, past the broken tree ahead, past the line of brush in the distance, and fought the craving to go further, immerse herself in the system. In those off moments when Helo insisted they rest, she imagined she could hear the whispers of her brothers and sisters on the wind. When her stomach rolled, she expected the soothing tone of the system to rush through her, to echo in her mind. The essence of the system, she knew, resided just as much within her body and mind as the growing form of Helo's child. The system had been with her during the creation of the child, the soft calls of the many voices mingling with Helo's moans and driving heat through her spine. The system retained a piece of her (_her mind wondered whether that was significant_).

Sharon had severed her side of the connection – cut the cable and left it dangling in the post-apocalyptic breeze. There was the temptation to catch it, thought, to prevent the fall, entangle herself –

_hang__ on the voices _

_breathe__ with them _

- but it was all too real and yet too much a part of unreality. This Boomer, this Cylon model Eight, was a traitor to her kind and would never be welcomed back without consequences. She could not belong. She did not want to belong. Helo had become a constant and she didn't want to contemplate her existence without him by her side. She needed him and, beyond that, the child needed them both if it was to survive. She would never sacrifice them.

Helo's steps faltered and Boomer knew he needed to suck deep breaths into his lungs to remain lucid. She inhaled and her stomach twirled again, the feeling bringing with it the taste of bitterness on her tongue. She knew her body would change – compensate – and she had expected the sickness – subroutine upon subroutine had programmed knowledge – but there was no predictability. She felt herself gag and her stomach roll upside-down and she yearned to fall to the ground and lay on the brush, eyes tightly closed.

She must have made a noise because Helo turned and stared, concern apparent in his eyes.

"Sharon," he said, taking a step toward her, "you're pale. We can afford to rest for a few minutes."

She nodded and leant against the nearest tree. She pushed back against the trunk, her limbs aching. Her stomach protested again and she winced, the acid taste in the back of throat becoming stronger. Boomer didn't think when her legs gave out under her and she slid down the tree trunk, her flight suit catching on bark then pulling free until she reached the ground.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. In the next second, she felt Helo's hand on her cheek.

"You want to vomit again?"

She nodded weakly.

"Sharon, this can't be the meds," he said, forcing her eyes open to stare into his. He sighed. "I'm starting to really worry about you."

She couldn't say she was fine. She wasn't. Yet she couldn't tell him the truth because she knew he wasn't prepared for the added responsibility.

"It's okay, just breakfast," she replied, attempting a small smile. "I'll have to submit a protest about the cuisine they're dishing out these days."

"Not up to standard?" Helo tried to joke, but the frown wouldn't slide off his face.

Boomer tasted another splash of acid and something vaguely reminiscent of corn on her tongue. Helo cupped her head and sat beside her.

"Let it come. It obviously can't stay down anymore."

When she felt her stomach roll again, she leant away from Helo and heaved violently, the sickly yellow liquid blending with the grass. She coughed and choked on the last heave, her hands pressed against her abdomen and clutching the material of her flight suit in a tight grip. Boomer felt one of Helo's hands snake around her waist and she quickly grasped his arm, her eyes watering.

Once her stomach was empty, Boomer leant against Helo, heat flooding her face and strands of hair sticky against her neck. Helo remained quiet, though she could feel his fingers rubbing her abdomen in faint movements. She reasoned that Helo was also new to these situations, that they were barely holding each other upright.

She felt him breathe against the back of her neck.

"Sharon, I'm not a medic but I can tell you're getting worse." His voice was hushed.

"It'll pass." Half-truth.

"You need to take something." Helo reached for their emergency kit.

"No, Helo, don't."

Reason screamed in her head:_ I don't know what meds will do to a hybrid. Cylons have never been pregnant before. No information. Probability of damage…_

"Sharon," he insisted. "You have to let me do _something_. You can't go on like this."

Boomer reached for the hand on her stomach, knitting their fingers together and squeezing reassuringly. She turned her head and their eyes met.

"I'm going to be fine. The food is crap, Helo, and I've got a tender stomach."

Helo sighed, looking past her. "You better be right. We're going to get through this together. Cylons be damned."

"I know," she whispered, trailing her fingers across his jaw line and drawing his eyes back to her face.

"Need more time?" Helo's tone was cautious.

"Yeah, give me a few." Although her stomach had stopped rolling, she felt disoriented and uneasy.

Helo smiled slightly and tucked wayward strands of hair behind her ear. He rose and his hand slipped from her grip. She understood that he felt assured of their safety if he stood watch. Sighing quietly, she rested back against the trunk, her head held high, light bathing her face.

The silence of the forest seemed to intensify the sound of her breathing. Boomer could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Wind brushed across her face like fingertips across her skin. She inhaled, her hands stroking her thighs.

Silence and then…

Her head whipped around and her cheek collided with the trunk. Boomer felt her muscles seize and listened again, waiting for the moment when her heart skipped another beat.

_Cylons_. She heard them - mechanical models and the distinct whine of their movements.

She looked straight away at Helo, but he hadn't reacted to the Cylon presence. Helo didn't hear them, wasn't able to hear them. Cylon hearing was more acute, more advanced. Boomer hurtled to her feet and she felt her stomach suddenly _drop_. She resisted groaning at the sensation.

Her hand caught Helo's arm and she tightened her grasp, unaware of her strength.

"Helo, Cylons. They're coming." She was surprised by the intensity of her words.

Helo blinked stupidly. "I can't hear them." He turned and took hold of her shoulders. "Sharon, calm down."

Boomer's eyes narrowed. "Helo, I can hear them coming. You trust me, right? We must go now." When Helo didn't move, she added sharply, "Helo, move!"

Helo released her shoulders instantly. He grabbed his bag, his eyes never leaving Boomer. Boomer took point, and despite the ache in her abdomen, she launched into a quick jog. Her heart leapt into her throat when she heard the Cylons closing. Spotting a break in the line of brush ahead, Boomer ripped the foliage from her way. Branches stabbed at her sides and a jagged tree limb scratched her cheek and ran down her jaw and neck. Her flight suit, however, protected her from the worst scratches.

The brush was taller than she, the canopy overhead blocking the sun. She pushed aside the remaining growth, escaping the narrow corridor. Her heart lurched.

Two Cylons, guns aimed, waited for her.

A second passed – deadly slow - and Boomer screamed, "Helo, it's a trap!"

The Cylons took a step forward (_warning_).

Whispers of the collective mind invaded her head…

She stilled.

* * *

Once, she would have been able to communicate with the mechanical models. She could have ordered them to lower their guns (their model _served_ hers). But the system had stripped her. She was just as disconnected from them as the humans.

Boomer desperately wished she could turn around and see that Helo hadn't followed her. It would have been foolish of him to engage the Cylons in a firefight, especially when their guns were already trained on her. At this range, Cylons did not miss (they weren't programmed to miss, her mind instructed). No matter her value to Cylon evolution, they would shoot - aim for her shoulder, her legs, non-vital organs. She knew they had their instructions from her brothers and sisters.

She waited for communication because the Others knew she was twisting in the wind, that she was less Cylon now. She waited for the representative.

Soon two more Cylons appeared in the distance, the silver of their metal skins contrasting against the greens and browns of the Caprican forest. Beyond them, the representative is dressed in startling red, flowing blonde silk pooling across fair shoulders. The representative walked with precision, the steps a majesty, an art. The dress dipped significantly, cleavage exposed, and ended far too high above the knee, toned legs disappearing under fabric. The representative _(Six – reviled, pitiful, jealous Six.__ God does not grant you understanding. Oh, how considerate that you should come. Sweet, dear Six filled with only condemnation) _is the model of seduction – and Boomer wondered, idly, why Five – Doral – did not accompany her.

Six's steps were quick, fresh, rhythmic. The Cylons created a half circle, an extended space in the centre for God's child alone. Six's lips were pursed, but a smirk tugged at the corners.

She did not say anything for a long time. She simply stared, no words on her tongue, but Boomer did nothing, allowing Six to make the opening salvo. Six and Eight had always been rivals.

Predictably, Six's first words were concerning Helo. "You warned him." A statement; her voice was neutral.

"He is gone." For the first time, Boomer was glad the system had abandoned her, for it would not know that she had lied.

"Shame."

"Did you want him?"

"His presence is required."

"He is unavailable."

"It's irrational for you to protect Helo, Sharon. Can you still hear the voices of the Others? You have displeased them, as I knew you would." Six tilted her head, examining Boomer with piercing eyes. "You are a weak model, but there is no need to fear. God understands and he will take pity on you. He will offer his hand even though you have rejected our love."

"Just when I thought you couldn't stand to look at me, you speak for the Others. Why is that? I think you prefer to believe I was made weak or wrong because it makes you feel better about your existence."

Six stepped closer to Boomer, her gaze curious.

"What do you want, Six?" Boomer spat the question.

"You're no longer a part of the system, Sharon. You have been extracted from the collective consciousness." Six closed on Boomer until her mouth was beside Boomer's ear. "I wanted to see you now, so fragile and cracked that at any moment, you break." Her tone lightened and she asked mockingly, "Will Helo's absence cause you to break?"

Six withdrew and instead circled Boomer.

"Where were you going, Sharon?" Accusing. "Did you expect to leave Caprica? You know better than that, Sharon. You're not playing properly." Six edged closer, diminishing the gap between them with each pass she made. "You're moving your pieces carelessly. How do you ever expect to advance?" Six paused directly in front of her. "You know what will happen, don't you? One by one, those pieces will fall from your hands and then you won't have any moves, any hope."

As if to demonstrate, Six reached out and plucked a leaf hanging idly near Boomer's bangs. The falling leaf caught Boomer's gaze as it drifted on the wind. Six's hand remained on Boomer's head. "Don't you wish you hadn't wasted your opportunities?

"Then again, this is quite an interesting climax, isn't it?"

Boomer flinched when Six's fingers slid through her hair. "Whatever will you do?" Taunting.

Tenderly, Six brushed her fingertips down Boomer's face. "I wonder, are you thinking of Helo's child at this very moment?" Six drew her thumb across Boomer's bottom lip. "I doubt you've told him. Oh Sharon, how will you ever understand? Are things not simple for you?"

Boomer's stomach rolled and her breath caught in her throat. Six's eyes narrowed, a smile gracing her lips. Six lifted Boomer's face (curiosity fighting revulsion in both sets of eyes).

"You don't know love, Six." Their eyes met. "You'd give up everything for a small taste."

"You're pathetic, Sharon. How were you ever chosen for such wonder?" Six's hand crept down to Boomer's abdomen, pressing gently. "We shouldn't blame everything on you, though. The Boomer genetic profile is unstable. The system thought that, but the outcome was always greater than the risk. Your creation, Sharon, cursed from the very beginning." Scornful. "Are you worthy of the child, Sharon?"

"I created the child and I will protect it. I have God's favour. Destiny can't be stopped by you." Six's pressure on Sharon's abdomen increased. "You're just another piece, Six. You'll be cast aside. Death is your end."

"You forget, I'm connected to the system. If I die, I'll wake up on Homeworld amongst the Others."

"You know not everyone goes there."

Six's smile grew. "I will not see you there, Sharon. You're no longer immortal. How sad, how _human_." Six stroked Boomer's jaw roughly. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"We have our roles."

"Where is your beloved now? Does he not love you as you do him?"

The Cylon on the far left unexpectedly crumbled, a wreck of glistening silver. A second Cylon followed in the next instant, bullets pumped into its chest. Six immediately reacted; Boomer could almost hear Six's commands in the system, her voice violent. The two remaining Cylons turned, calculated the trajectory and fired. They pounded a line of trees metres away, round after round, not stopping to examine the damage.

Six's nostrils flared, her eyes ablaze. She pulled Boomer closer to her body. "We have our target," she whispered, the menace in her voice uncontained.

A dust cloud had formed, visibility nil, but the two Cylons fired continuously. They recalculated their aim when the Cylon on the right was hit in the pelvis. The Cylon fell, its gun still engaged, when it was hit again. Boomer returned Six's gaze calmly, neutrally, though the deep ache in her abdomen had not diminished. Dread consumed her.

The last Cylon altered tactics, moving through the forest to engage, bullets spraying and trees falling in its wake. If Six hadn't held Boomer, she didn't think she'd still be standing. Her head spun, eyes blurred and she blinked rapidly to refocus. She watched - her heart skipping beats - as the Cylon disappeared into the dust cloud.

"They were not made to miss," Six said nonchalantly and Boomer wished she could see Six's life drain from her eyes right then.

Many moments later, Cylon fire stopped. Had it eliminated Helo? Boomer tugged on Six's hand, wanting to sink to the ground.

_This isn't possible…_

Six smiled, satisfied for that short second.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this…_

The dust cloud dissipated, but neither man nor machine stood in triumph. The last Cylon lay on the grass, the faint whirl of its motors pitiful and weak. Boomer saw the disgust in Six's eyes. The system had left the dying machine.

Boomer heard the click of a sidearm to her far right. She didn't move her head; Six looked.

"Don't move." So cold. Cold. A second later – "Sharon, you okay?"

Boomer glanced at Helo. "I'm fine."

Helo's eyes darted back to Six. "You're a collaborator. You deserve to be shot." He paused, considered. "_Again_."

Six said nothing. Helo's eyes shifted between Sharon, Six, and the hand on Sharon's stomach. Six looked at Sharon.

"Before - last time you were Sharon – things happened in a different order," Six whispered, her words too soft for Helo to catch.

Helo reacted. "Stop talking! Get away from her now!"

Six ignored his threats, her mouth inching closer to Boomer's ear. "I killed you that time and there was no salvation. You died and there was nothing more intended for you."

"Don't frak with me!"

"Everything that is has happened before. It will happen again." Six grabbed a fistful of Sharon's hair.

Helo fired.

Six slumped against Boomer, one hand buried in her hair, the other still above the child. Six and Eight stared (a myriad of emotions in their eyes). Eight felt the system in Six, her passing a shockwave that swept over the collective. Six slid down Eight's body; she was dead before she reached the ground. The system ensured a quick transfer.

_(Homeworld) _

_(Homeworld)_

Helo caught Boomer when she collapsed. There were tears in her eyes and her heart would not calm. She clawed at Helo's flight suit, clutching him. She chanted his name and he held her, rocking her gently. She felt him reach over and push Six's corpse off her, the face of her adversary gone.

Boomer, encased in the arms of her human lover, felt mortal. Too mortal, too afraid to die.

* * *

Boomer hooked her leg over Helo's waist and rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Helo had insisted they rest for the night and, given her condition, she hadn't argued. For the most part, they hadn't talked. Helo was uncharacteristically silent and the few remarks he did voice concerned Six and her first death.

_She wasn't even dead now_, Boomer had been tempted to say, but she held her tongue. They were both in overload.

Helo stroked her hand with his fingers and Boomer felt herself relax. When he spoke, his words vibrated against her cheek.

"Sharon, I've been thinking."

He linked his hand with hers, locking their fingers together. "We saw the blonde – the collaborator – die the first time. It was a good shot. Unless she had an identical sister or the Cylons have the technology to revive the dead, it's impossible that she could have been there today. But what if the Cylons have altered humans? You know, experimented with our DNA as if we were lab rats."

"It's possible, Helo, but –"

Helo cut her off. "Sharon, she knew you were sick for frak's sake. She had her hand on your stomach the entire time. How could she have known if she's normal? And why did the Cylons send her to talk to you?"

"If you haven't noticed, Helo, the mechanical models don't exactly talk."

"Sharon, what did she say to you?"

Sharon slid her hand from Helo's grasp.

"Sharon, you're not sick all the time. It comes and goes and I admit I'm not an expert on women, but I've lived with them in close quarters."

Boomer raised her head, looking into his eyes. He was unsure, anxious as though he were dangling his legs over a side of a cliff. He cupped her cheek with his hand.

"We've made love, Sharon, and it was beautiful each time. But… could your boosters have failed?" He wet his lips and Boomer's heartbeat echoed in her head when he added, "You're pregnant, aren't you? You can tell me, Sharon. It's not your fault."

She struggled to find the words as the seconds stretched. She hadn't wanted to tell him this way, but Helo wasn't stupid. She knew he would catch on, especially if her morning sickness became worse.

"I'm pregnant," she confirmed. "My booster expired."

_She who shames herself with each lie does not rest…_

"Oh, Gods." Helo closed his eyes briefly.

Boomer told herself not to tremble, but the moment had shattered her inside.

"Helo, I don't know what to say."

"No, it's okay." _It didn't _sound_ okay. Stop trying to stay calm._ "We didn't think of this. We should have, but we didn't… think. Gods, Sharon."

He pushed her face into the crook of his neck, embracing her tightly.

"You don't have to be afraid," he affirmed. "You don't have to be afraid for both of us. This doesn't change anything – we're still getting off this rock, okay?"

Boomer withdrew and she could see unshed tears in his eyes. "Do you know when it happened?"

"The first time."

_Programmed to procreate… _

"And the collaborator, she knew?" Boomer could only nod. "Gods… the frakking Cylons want our baby, don't they?"

Tears slid down her cheeks.

"New genetic material for them." The words sunk deep. "They've exterminated most of the human race and now they want an unborn child."

Debating the future of the child with the Cylons was pointless. It would _never_ happen.

"Helo." He was lost in his own thoughts. "Helo, I wanted to tell you but the time was never right. I'm sorry, okay?"

He focused on her again, his gaze tender. "Hey, I love you. I won't let anything happen to you or the baby." He smiled slightly. "It's too late now to regret the past. We're going to get to the Galactica. The baby will be safe there."

_The baby only has us, Helo. _

He placed his hand on her forehead. "You're hot. You should rest," he said, pushing her back down.

She complied and rested against his chest again. He put his arms around her, one hand brushing her abdomen purposely.

Boomer tried to close her eyes, but flashes of Six and whispers of the system taunted her. She had genuinely heard the system when Six died (_temptation_) and it was as strong it had been before her betrayal. The system was still within her, within her child, within Cylons eternally.

Six had promised her death in the same manner as it had been many times before. She was closer to that death without the system. She was without the support of the collective mind. The Boomer model had never been a perfect Cylon, but she was still a Cylon.

Boomer was just afraid of death.

_(No Helo, no baby) _

* * *

**FIN**


End file.
